Every Hit, Every Second, Every Day
by Yhu
Summary: complete Ric tells Ricky of some terrible events that happened in his past. slash FlairSteamboat


Every Hit, Every Second, Every Day  
  
Genre: Drama  
  
Pairing: Ricky Steamboat/Ric Flair  
  
Rating: R for spouse/child abuse and language  
  
Summary: Ric tells Ricky of some painful memories.  
  
AN: This story contains some pretty heavy themes, ones that actually made me tear up at times. Damn you Lifetime movies!))  
  
~  
  
Ricky's POV   
  
Sometimes I wake up late at night for no reason at all. Most of the time though, it's because I don't feel his body at my side. I wonder what he thinks of to make him get up and leave with out warning. Normally I find him stareing out the window, but sometimes I'll find him the next morning passed out on the kitchen table with a half empty bottle of vodka.   
  
Normally Ric'll tell me everything I want to know; he'll want to get things out in the open. I don't understand why he won't say anything... If it seems to bother him this much, why won't he tell me? We've been together for so long, after all.   
  
After Ric's mother passed away in November he's been up more often than normal. It scares me like you wouldn't believe. I shift in the bed a little spying his siloute by the floor length windows in our room. He stands motionless, silent, and unmoving. I sat up watching him just stare out into the empty night sky. "Ric... Ric, come to bed."  
  
Ric turned his head and frowned. "Later, okay? Go back to bed, baby."   
  
"No... This has to stop. I'm so worried about you Ric. You've been doing this for so long, ever since we first started going out all those years ago... Please just tell me, it's not healthy to keep this inside of you." I murmur as I walked over to him. My arms wrapped around his shoulders, my head laying against his shoulder.   
  
Ric kissed my hand gently, resting his head on mine. "Not tonight Ricky."   
  
"Will you at least lay back down with me?"  
  
"I won't sleep."  
  
"I know."   
  
He let me lead him back to the bed, so I considered that a small victory. We climbed back in together, my arms around him, his around me. Ric sighed into my hair gently, and his hold on my body tightened a little.   
  
I wish he would tell me, I really wish he would.   
  
-  
  
In the morning he is fine. A little tired looking, but not too much. Sometimes that man could work five days straight on only an hour.   
  
Ric had invited Shawn over for coffee this morning. I smiled to him, opening the door. "Morning Shawn. You're looking well today."   
  
"Thanks." He grinned sitting down at the table. He wore a pair or black shorts and white tee shirt, along with a pair of big sunglasses. "Nice day out there, huh?"  
  
"Beautiful. Couldn't ask for better in fact." Shawn took a sip out of his cup. "Great stuff, Ric. Love the way you make coffee."   
  
"So how are things with you and Hunter?" I asked.  
  
Ric was stareing straight at Shawn, not speaking, not even drinking. "Take off your sunglasses, Shawn."  
  
"Why?" He asked laughing a little. "I like im'. Besides, it's kind of bright out this morning."  
  
"Come on the eighties are over. Off they go."   
  
Shawn frowned, quickly getting up from the chair. "Aw come on Flair! Why's it bothering you so much?"  
  
"Because..." Ric began as he got up as well quickly knocking the glasses from Shawn's face. One big black eye stuck out on his handsome features, extending it's way all the way from his brow to the upper part of his cheek. "You're trying to hide something. How did you get that shriner?"  
  
"Sparring with Hunter." Shawn said with a shrug. "Hit me a little too hard on accident. Got him back though so it was okay."   
  
Ric blinked softly. "Oh. Oh alright. Sorry. Guess I... I'm sorry. Don't know what I was thinking."   
  
"That's okay. No biggie."  
  
No biggie? I suppose... Ric has always been somewhat leary of Hunter's relationship with Shawn. Hunter had a temper, but nothing major. He'd never hurt Shawn.  
  
~  
  
Ric would always watch Hunter closely. I never knew why, nor have I noticed it that much. But after the black eye thing... He's been watching him like a hawk. I keep telling him not to worry, but he never listens to me. At least on this subject anyway.   
  
I think he worries that Shawn loves Hunter so much, he'll let him get away with murder. I have to get him off that train of thought... If Hunter was abusing Shawn, we'd know about it by now.   
  
It's been a long, quiet drive to the arena. I like accompanying Ric to every Raw and house show... It brings back such good memories. I smile to Ric as he returns it. "Looking forward to tonight? Should be pretty interesting. I can't wait to see how the audience is going to react to the draft picks. Especially since some of the guys don't even know."   
  
"Oh yeah, it should be a good time. Say... Ricky... If I told you something pretty horrible about myself, how would you react?"  
  
I wrinkled my brow as I looked over to him curiously. "Well, I don't know. I'm not sure; I guess it would depend on what it is..."   
  
"Mmm."  
  
"Are you going to tell me what it is or not?"  
  
"Not right now. This is heavy stuff and I don't want it on my mind while I'm on the show."  
  
"Okay Ric..." I said quietly. It may not be on his mind, but it sure is on mine now.   
  
~  
  
We spent the night away from the others, Ric didn't seem in the mood to celebrate a sucessful show. "Do you want a drink?" I asked looking over to him from the liqour cabinent.   
  
"Yeah- Something strong please."  
  
I poured him a glass twenty year old wine- a bottle we bought together during the eighties and were saving for a special ocassion. "Our wine is all we have left..."   
  
"That's fine." He mumbled taking the glass from my hand. I poured myself some joining him on the couch. "I love you, Ricky. You know that right?"   
  
I leaned against him, my head on his shoulder. "I know, I always did."  
  
Ric placed his glass on the table and hugged me tighter. "I would never hurt you either."   
  
"I know that too." We remained like that for a few minutes before I felt that wine kick in. Obviously Ric did too, for I felt tears rolling down his face, and into my hair. "Ric..."   
  
"I couldn't help her, Ric... I couldn't help her."   
  
"Couldn't help who?" I asked as he sobbed into my hair, moving into my shoulder.   
  
"My mother. I left her, I didn't stay. She made me go, I should have said no. Things might have been different..."   
  
I frowned softly letting him rest his head in my lap. "It's okay Ric..." I whisper quietly and run my fingers through his hair gently.   
  
"He didn't have to hit her so hard, she was so much smaller than him... Every night at seven, oh god..."   
  
I helped him up and lead him upstairs. "Come on Ric. Up to bed..."   
  
~  
  
Ric slept soundly- Maybe it was the wine. I sure as hell didn't though. I watched the shadows dance across the ceiling in deep thought. I cracked the tip of the iceburg. If just getting that little bit off his chest helped I wanted to go for the whole thing tomorrow morning.   
  
As dawn hit, I got of bed to head downstairs to make breakfast. Ric followed traveled downstairs not long after the smell of his favourite breakfast, cinnamon pancakes. "Hey baby. What did I do to deserve cinnamon pancakes? You hate making these."   
  
"No reason... Hanging over?" I asked calmly as he kissed me on the cheek.  
  
"Never felt better! Best night of sleep I've had in a long time."   
  
I put breakfast on the table with a couple of glasses of orange juice to wash it all down. "Do you remember anything that happened last night?"   
  
"Nope. Not after Raw anyway." He forked a couple of pieces of pancakes into his mouth, staring off into space a little.   
  
"You said something interesting last night."   
  
"Did I? Well what ever I had to drink last night must have been pretty powerful. I'm sure I said some damn interesting things."   
  
I nodded with a small smile. "Yeah... Well... Will you tell me about your mom? I mean I've told you everything about my family, but you've never mentioned anything about your-"  
  
"I don't want to talk about it." Ric answered quickly and curtly. "Case closed, it's over and done with. No way I want to dig down into shit that's been burried for years."  
  
"God damn it Ric! You try to say it's burried and dead but hell! It's not true. I can see it in your face... I've never seen you so damn bad, not since your mother's death in November. Please tell me Ric, I worry about you. I love you..."   
  
"Alright. I'll tell you. But I don't want you to even begin to suggest that I need some sort of freaken' shrink Ricky..."   
  
"I won't." I promised as I inched my chair closer to him.   
  
"I don't know when it got really bad... I only started to remember it when I turned fourteen." He sighed leaning against me. "I guess it went on before I was even born. My mother would always wear those pastel thin linen dresses. Every day, of every season, even in the winter. Then again, we lived down south so it never really got very cold. I got my looks from her mostly, right down to the hair. She was such a nice woman, you would have liked her a lot."  
  
1967-  
  
Those glasses, those big black sunglasses stick out in my mind the most. That's why I went all nuts on Shawn. They were the same exact frames. Not meant for fashion, oh no. They hid the whole eye, concealing anything even the most disgusting of bruises. But with Shawn I should have realised something. He wore shorts and a tee shirt. Had no other big bruises on him either that would have tipped me off.   
  
She always wore a ton of make up too; which didn't make any sense to me then. I remember my grandmother telling me that she was the prettiest woman in the whole town- didn't even need to wear lipstick- her lips were rosey red naturally.   
  
"Hi mom." I said to her one particular hot summer day. She was working out in the garden earlier, and had brought in a fresh vase of cut daffodils.  
  
"Hey baby- You going out to play?"  
  
"Mmhm, baseball with the guys in the sandlot."   
  
"Don't be long... Your father wants you home for dinner at five."   
  
"'Kay. Bye mom!"   
  
Baseball was my escape. I'd play 'til the sun went down if I was allowed it. Sometimes, like that night, I wish I could have. For awhile there I thought about becoming a pro ball player. Glad I didn't though. Never would have meet you now would I?  
  
He drove a beat up ford station wagon, it clattered and shook up more dust than there was on the road. Sometimes he drove it by the sandlot to pick me up. My friends all thought I was lucky to be getting a ride home. I wasn't really. The only reason he would come get me is if I did something he wanted to scream at me for.   
  
He came for me that evening too. Normally if he had something to yell at me for it was because of my grades. It being summer, I instantly began to rack my brain for any possible things I did wrong when I saw that old station wagon ramble up to the lot.   
  
"Bye guys!" I waved heading over to the car. He opened the door for me. Immediately the smell of alcohol leaked out into the open. I got in quickly, not wanting my friends to know that man dad was a boozie. I kept stareing at the dash board like I was told. Never look him in the eye, that was like death.  
  
It was a punishing ride home. He never even looked at me. When we were maybe about a block a way from the house he finally turned to me. "You a queer, Richard?"   
  
My mouth nearly dropped into my lap. I could feel the colour drain straight from his face. "No!" I protested instantly. "Dad I don't know what you're talking about!"  
  
I remember the car tires screeching; the scent of burning rubber rising up. I didn't wear a seat belt that day and ended up bashing my head in to the dash board. I didn't scream, just held it in as blood started pouring down my forehead.   
  
"You're a fuckin'queer. Don't you even try to deny it. Look at ya- I bet you want to cry, don't you?"   
  
He grabbed me by the back of the hair and slammed my head into the dash over and over... Everything got really hazy after that. I still have problems remembering some things about the day after what my head went through. I do remember wanting to cry so hard it hurt keeping in the tears. And the blood. It was everywhere- staining the dash, my pants, and my hair.   
  
He started the car up again and we drove the rest of the way home. I had to keep my eyes shut so the blood wouldn't sting. He grabbed me by the shirt and threw me to the ground. Incase you were wondering, our neighbors knew about this but they never did anything to help. They would watch from their white washed porches, pretending like nothing ever happened.   
  
I was able to open my eyes enough to watch his dirty shoes making their way up to the house. I didn't want my mom to see what happened to me. She didn't need to know. Crawling slowly to my feet I stumbled back to the hose on the side of the house. The water felt so good streaming down my face and hair, washing the blood into the grass in a watery mixture.   
  
My shirt was ruined. Quickly my mind thought of some kind of excuse. I don't remember how many excuses I made up when I was young, but I got pretty good with coming up with new ones at the drop of a hat. I decided that I got hit in the face grounder. She'd by that...  
  
"Richard!"   
  
It was her. She turned me around and hugged me hard. "What happened Richard? Did you get into another fight again? Did those McGinty boys make fun of your hair again?"   
  
I shook my head. "No mom, I got hit in the face with a grounder." The tears came right then; I couldn't hold them back anymore. I knew she knew that it wasn't a grounder that made me bleed, just like how I knew that she didn't get her black eye from walking into a door. We'd never admit something like that; it wasn't something people did back then. Family affairs stayed quiet and personal.   
  
Maybe it's the heat in the Carolinas that does things to people's minds. My father would never beat us too badly in the winter. For the rest of the seasons though- ESPECIALLY in August- It was the worst. A few weeks after the last time he hurt me or my mom, came the final blow to my mother's patience.   
  
My father had just recently gotten laid off. Which meant he was home all the time- and I played a whole lot more baseball. My mother had to get a job to support us since he wouldn't. One sticky night when I was on my way home from the diamond I couldn't help but feel this nastly little knot working it's way up into my stomach and lodging it's self in my throat.   
  
Something terrible was going to happen. I almost felt like I was going to puke right there along side of the road. I normally hated going home, considering my father being home all the time had nothing better to do then call me a 'queer boy'.   
  
I came in the back way into the kitchen, smiling to my mother as I sat down.   
  
"How was baseball today, Richard?"   
  
I took the plate of food offered to me and started to situate my self on the chair a little better. I was starting to get my growth spurt that summer so everything felt a little more akward than usual. "It was okay. We lost to those kids from the fancy neighborhood. They think they're so good cuz' they've got good equipment and stuff like that."   
  
"Pass the salt, pansy." My father growled at me. "And quit your bitchin'. No one wants to hear about your day."   
  
I watched my mother clenching her fists at her sides so tightly, little rivulets of blood began to spill from her delicate skin on to the floor. She watched him berate and belittle me for the past few weeks and I could tell she had had enough. "Could you please be a little more supportive of him?"  
  
His eyes were like brimstone as he stood up tossing his napkin to the table. "What did you say?" He asked as his voice became so painfully calm it chilled me to the bone.   
  
"I said- Please be a little more supportive of our son?" She wasn't going to back down. Maybe that was a mistake- Hell it WAS a mistake. He was just going to try harder to break us both now.   
  
He grabbed her the collar of her cotten and dress, shoving her to the ground. There was a snapping sound- a sound I knew I all too well. He was taking off his belt. Sometimes instead of his fists he'd beat me with that.   
  
She didn't scream after the first few lashings; only gave a few small whimpers and cries. Her stylish hair became matted to her face with sweat and tears. I was paralyized with fear in my chair. I never saw my mother getting beaten before that night; it was the most disgusting thing I've ever seen before.   
  
I couldn't take it anymore. My anger over took my fear and revulsion as I lunged at him. All that baseball really paid off in the long run. I punched and punched and punched as hard as I could to his face, his chest, any flesh and skin I could find. I made him bleed- I could feel it coming down my hands and arms. I was screaming too, stuff I don't remember now but they must have been pretty terrible.   
  
He pushed me back hard into the counter. My head hit the upper counter so hard my vision got blurry. I fell to the ground, craddling my head between my arms. I didn't even look at my mom, I didn't want to see her face. His foot came down on my ribs, my chest, my legs, my everything he could step on. Every kick he gave me felt like it was breaking bones.   
  
The screen door slammed shut, leaving just me and my mother in pain on the floor.   
  
"Richard... Richard... Don't fall asleep... Don't close your eyes..."   
  
"I won't mom, I'm okay..." I murmured.   
  
I followed her sandals as she hobbled over to the living room. She came back a moment later. By that time I was up on my feet again.   
  
"Here Richard, take this." She whispered giving me a handful of cash. "Go to the bus station and go to your aunt's house in Nevada."  
  
"What about you?" I asked as tears began to stream down my face. "I don't want to leave you here! Not with him!"  
  
She cradled my face between her cool hands, brushing my tears away from my face with her thumbs gently. "It's better you than me, I'm a grown woman. You go to Nevada... There are some things you don't understand, Richard."   
  
I did leave that night, and though it did lead to me meeting you and me getting my career started... My mind never left South Carolina.   
  
~  
  
Ricky's POV  
  
I was crying. I don't know why he wasn't.   
  
"When she passed away this November, I knew she was finally free of him... But... The only other person who knew what I was going through died and left me alone." He smiled sadly as he finished off the rest of his pancakes. "That's why I've been staying up all night like I have been these past few weeks and months. It's always on my mind. I've never felt so alone before."   
  
"Oh god Ric, I'm so sorry... I had no idea. I... I..."   
  
"Shh. It's okay. I hide things very well. It comes with the past history." He gives me a reassuring smile one that only makes me feel worse. I break down hard into his shoulder, shaking softly.   
  
Never have I heard of anything so terrible before. I guess because my family life was so wonderful in Hawaii I only assumed that Ric- Oh god. I felt pretty terrible. Here I was wanting to comfort Ric about this, and he was doing it to me.   
  
"I guess I should keep off Hunter's back hmm? I don't really think he's hurting Shawn..."   
  
I nodded looking up at him. "He loves Shawn... He would never hurt him. Like I know you would never do that to me."   
  
"Never." He murmured into my hair. "If it's one thing I learned from him... It's that I'm not like him. And never will be like him either."  
  
FIN. 


End file.
